


The Two Times She Held Him And The One Time He Held Her

by brookie4cookies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Sexual Themes, Some angst, but also soft fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookie4cookies/pseuds/brookie4cookies
Summary: When in each other's arms, the world falls away.(For a friend)





	The Two Times She Held Him And The One Time He Held Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artimisian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artimisian/gifts).



They lay there for what seemed like an eternity, finding solace and comfort in each other’s bodies in a most intimate sense. It had been so long since either had been allowed a break; a chance to break down their walls and be as raw as they pleased. Esmonde lay beneath the former templar as his head rested against her chest, listening carefully to the dull thump of her heart. 

 

“Beautiful…” The whisper made the woman chuckle, and she knew her cheeks would be tinted pink once again. Cullen Rutherford would never be remembered as a poetic man, but he certainly knew how to make a lady feel special. She believed it was his simple statements that made her heart flutter over any flowery sentiments she’d received over the years. 

 

“As are you, Cullen.” She actually laughed at the face he made in response. “Handsome then. Is that better?” 

 

“Much.” He responded into her skin, and pressed a kiss against her breast in response. The sensation made the woman shiver, and she could feel him smirk. He was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he? She smiled rather goofily in response, pushing some of her snow-white hair out of her face as she brought her other hand down to his curls. 

 

“You should let your hair down more often,” She cooed, make sure that her nails massaged his scalp as she went, “I finally get to see why Varric calls you curly.” She felt the man exhaled against her at the mention, but he finally looked up at her and the elf had to suck in a breath. Was it normal for a man to be so beautiful, bed hair and all? She was convinced as such. She brought her hand down from his hair to his jaw and her thumb softly brushed his lips.

 

“Bringing up the dwarf in bed, are we? Andraste preserve me, what am I going to do with you?” It was admonishment, but there was no venom in Cullen’s voice. He was teasing her, and she reveled in it. She bit her lip as she smiled and suppressed a shiver when his eyes darted down to them. 

 

“I’m clearly terrible,” She started, shifting so that she was sitting up more against the pillows. “Clearly...I think I need to be punished.” The words came out of her mouth and even surprised her; what was this man doing to her? When had she been such a deviant? Her words seemed to affect her commander as well, whose arms around her middle tightened instinctively. 

 

“Is that an order, Inquisitor…?” He whispered huskily, pulling himself upwards to hover over her. She in reply nestled down lower into the pillows of her bed and challenged his look with her own, mouth curved into a sultry grin. 

 

“By your leave, commander.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Shhhhh…..wake up Cullen…!” She whispered urgently, trying to quell his shakes with her soothing words. It was to no avail though, as the man kept mumbling under his breath and his body twitched on. They had nights like this every so often; she would wake up to the sound of him crying softly, noises that were so unlike the straight-laced commander Cullen she knew so well. He was in so much pain and hid it so easily--sometimes she wondered that had she realized sooner, could she have helped more?

 

But there was no time for what-ifs, not now. She kept up her ministrations and pressed a damp rag against his forehead, trying to keep her hands from shaking. Esmonde Lavellan knew she was not prepared for this and never had been, but by the creators she would  _ try _ . She was not going to give up on this man, no matter what the future brought them. 

 

“You’re dreaming, Cullen--!” She pleaded, hoping he could hear her. And by the grace of the gods he finally seemed to. The man jolted awake with a gasp, body lurching forward. Esmonde naturally brought her arms around his chest and buried her face into his back, pressing a kiss against his spine. He relaxed slowly into her arms, hands clenching and unclenching as he went down. The man finally let out the breath he was holding in and collapsed into his lover, body still tight and on high alert even so.

 

“I-I’m sorry--” He always started with an apology, and she always shushed him, maneuvering him so that his head was rested on her collarbone. She brushed a kiss to his sweaty forehead and brought the rag there once again, knowing it calmed him to feel the coolness of it. 

 

“Never apologize for fighting, Cullen. I mean it.” She said it firmly, but there was a level of softness in her voice that made him finally relax fully against her. He was heavy but she gladly took his weight against her, the sensation familiar. They were quiet for a bit as they lay in his bed, the moonlight through the hole in his ceiling illuminating them. The silence was calming, but she knew the man wanted to say something. 

 

“I....I lost you.” He started, and then paused. Sighing, he buried his nose into her locks, inhaling her scent like it was the only thing still tethering him to this earth. Esmonde didn’t speak, but the words stung. She knew that had become a recurring theme for him, for his nightmares. How she wished she could chase them away, but that was outside of her power. 

 

“You haven’t lost me, Cullen. And you never will.” She sounded so sure, even though their future was never secure and they both knew it. Regardless he finally smiled against her neck and pressed a kiss of his own there. 

 

“I’ll hold you to that….I love you.” Cullen whispered, and she felt emotions curling in her belly that made her smile in return.

 

“Ar lath ma, Vhen’an.” Esmonde murmured.

 

* * *

 

 

“Will she wake soon?” His question was stated in his usual manner, but anyone could see the commander of the Inquisition’s forces was a wreck. The shadows under his eyes spoke to hours by the Inquisitor's bedside, and no one so far had been able to pull him from there. Even the words of Seeker Pentaghast couldn’t wrestle the man from his lover’s side, and with that there was nothing more to be said.

 

“Soon is the hope, Commander. Excuse me.” Was all the healer said and with a bow left the room, leaving the man to take the limp hand of his lady. Esmonde looked so  _ small _ lying there, and it killed him to see her like this. She was life incarnate-bright and wonderful and bringing joy wherever she went. It was as if the world had sucked all of that out of her, and he gave a grim look to the stump that had once been her arm. The anchor had almost killed her, and he hadn’t even realized it fully. He tightened his fist against his knee. 

 

“I should’ve known…!” He growled under his breath, feeling the same anger boiling up that had over the last several hours. She had given herself up as a martyr for this world, and everytime he felt helpless to stop her. How could he? Esmonde was the Inquisitor and fate had it’s plans for her; Cullen could only pray to the Maker that he would return her home to with every time.

 

“Ara sal’shiral…?” The words tore him out of his thoughts and the man moved quickly to Esmonde’s side, the young woman trying to pull herself up and slipping. 

 

“I’m here, Esmonde, I’m here-” He assured, moving so that he could support her as she sat up, pulling her body to him. She was still so weak, and he knew the lack of an arm was only hindering her further. She was as shaken as a newborn halla, and she leaned against him as she shivered. 

 

“It’s...it’s really gone, isn’t it…?” She whispered, lip trembling as she did. Cullen couldn’t find the words to console her; the anchor had been everything that had brought her to be where she is, and losing it? The consequences were unimaginable.

“It almost killed you, Esmonde.” He said softly, being careful not to be too rough with her as he brought his arms around her. For a moment she tensed up and he was sure he’d been, but the soft sob that worked its way out of the elven woman’s mouth made him only hold her closer. 

 

“I-I know, it’s just--what will I _do_...?!” She questioned between cries, body shaking. The man didn’t have a response to that; he knew what he wanted to say. 

 

_ ‘Let’s run away and live quietly where the Inquisition will be only a memory. You can meet my family, they’ve wanted to meet you so much after I told them we wed. Maker, I want to start a family with you, I want to see our children playing and I want to grow old with you--’ _

 

“We’ll do it together, I promise...I’m never going to leave your side.” His words seems to calm her a bit and she twisted around to look at him, cheeks tear-stained and eyes red. 

 

“Oh you sweet man…!” She whispered and let out a soft cry again, moving forward to press a kiss to his lips. He responded in earnest, surging to cradle her head softly as they melded their mouths together softly. She pulled away suddenly and looked at him with the softest expression he’d ever seen, and Cullen was quite sure she was going to actually make him cry at this rate.

 

“ Ma’sal’shiral, my love…! I think I’d have fallen apart a lot sooner without you…” It was meant to be a joke as she lifted her gnarled limb, but he moved to take it softly and softly kissed the scarred tissue.

 

“This changes nothing, Esmonde. I-I will always love you. Maker, I married you didn’t I?” That finally made the woman hiccup out a laugh, and Cullen Rutherford knew he could never leave her side, not now and certainly not ever again.


End file.
